


Rebound

by RosiePaw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosiePaw/pseuds/RosiePaw





	Rebound

“_There’s_ trouble,” commented Rodney as he watched something on the other side of the mess hall.  John turned to see Ronon chatting with a pretty young woman, having apparently stopped on his way to the team’s table.  John couldn’t quite place her – one of the chemists, maybe?  When Ronon joined them a few moments later, John asked.

“Tracy,” replied Ronon, “Tracy Dwyer.”

The name rang a faint bell...  locker-room chat he’d overheard...  “Thought she was seeing Sgt. Phillips?”

“She _was_,” answered Ronon around a mouthful of tormack.  “They broke up.  I made a move.”

“Which never, _ever_ works,” expostulated Rodney.  “You’ve got her on the rebound.”

Ronon shrugged.  “Why’s that a problem?”

“Because all she wants you for is comfort and hand-holding while she gets over Phillips.  Once she’s feeling better, she’ll be ready to move on.”

“Not if I can convince her otherwise.  Besides, I might get to hold more than her hand.”  Ronon’s grin was unrepentant.

“It doesn’t work that way,” insisted Rodney.

“Maybe not for you, McKay.”  The grin got wider as Rodney began to sputter.  John shoved a bottle of water in his direction.

“Breathe, buddy.”

Teyla had been following the discussion with some interest.  “John, is Rodney’s opinion of meeting a partner ‘on the rebound’ common among your people?”

It was John’s turn to shrug.  “It’s certainly not uncommon.”

“Then you yourself do not think much of Ronon’s chances?”

“I wouldn’t say that.  Rebound relationships can be fun as long as both parties know what they want.”

“There speaks a man who’s never had trouble getting what he wants,” observed Rodney sourly.

John did not, not at all, freeze just a minute before taking a bite of his sandwich.  After chewing _and_ swallowing (unlike some people), he introduced a subtle change of subject.  “So, tomorrow’s mission.  P1X-947.”

“Kivnia,” said Teyla.

***

John was sixteen when he discovered the merits of being in the right place at the right time with regard to break-ups.  The right place, specifically, was just outside the back door of the high school gym, where he more or less tripped over Eileen McPherson crying.  He knew her slightly from math class.  He’d always thought she had a nice laugh and her red hair was kind of pretty, so he sat down next to her.  She spent almost an hour telling him about how Ron Millett had dumped her after a fight about something or other and she was kind of glad because Ron wasn’t the right guy for her, she knew that now, but still, she was _so_ sad and _so_ lonely and it was _so_ embarrassing to keep bursting into tears. 

None of it made much sense to John except for the tears being embarrassing part, but he put on the “listening face” he used with his father and tried to nod at the right places.  When Eileen had gotten done crying and was ready to go inside to repair her make-up, she told him he was a good listener and a sweet guy and maybe they’d see each other around?

Turned out that using his listening face with Eileen paid off much better than it ever had with his father.  They dated for the rest of the school year, almost four months – movies, dances, some kissing and making out.  A couple of times, the making out got pretty heavy.  John thought it was damn amazing.

By the time school year ended, however, John was beginning to find Eileen’s laugh kind of irritating and her chatter kind of boring.  Fortunately, Eileen’s folks went away somewhere for summer.  She wrote him a couple of letters.  He sent her a postcard, although he couldn’t think of anything to write on it.

When school started again in the fall, Eileen seemed almost nervous around John.  He wasn’t sure why, but he backed off, gave her space.  Shortly afterwards, she started spending a lot of time with Greg Dupuis on the basketball team.  She and John still chatted sometimes, before or after math class, and everything was fine.

After that, John took to sort of experimentally happening to spend a lot of time in the vicinity of girls who’d just broken up with other guys.  It worked like a charm.  By the time he was ready to move on, so were the girls.  Everyone was happy.

John was eighteen when he discovered that the same technique worked with guys.  Josh Morgan called one evening to say that his parents were out and he had some beer.  That sounded good to John, so he went over.  Turned out that Josh had like a _case_ of beer.  Also turned out that Josh had just broken up with Katie Lewis.  Not that Josh wanted to _talk_ about it.  They were _guys_, after all.  He just wanted someone to drink the beer with.

It was at some point after their third beers that Josh said angrily, “Girls.  Well, you know, _girls_.”

And then he said, less angrily, “Sometimes, I wonder if.”

And then not angrily at all, almost wistfully, “John, have you ever?”

And then he put his hand on John’s thigh.

John looked back at Josh through his too-long bangs and said, “Yeah,” and didn’t say that it had only been once and not much had happened.  He figured Josh didn’t need to know that.  And maybe John was right, because things proceeded on from that point and either despite or perhaps because John and Josh were both somewhat drunk, it was _really_ damn amazing.

After that they didn’t date and there were no movies and no dances, but there was lots and lots of making out.

By the time Josh decided he wanted to try girls again, John was getting ready to leave for university.  And everything was fine.

***

The Kivnians were at roughly an early medieval level, feudal system and all.  The mission had been considered a long shot, because according to Teyla’s information, they weren’t interested in trade.  Their culture – and especially their religion – encouraged them to keep to themselves.  They avoided foreigners in general and foreigners who came through the Gate in particular.  However, the planet was listed in the Ancient database as a possible ZPM site, so SGA-1 went to check it out.

For once, the on-the-ground situation turned out to be _more_ favourable than Teyla’s intel suggested.  The team was welcomed as honoured guests and immediately escorted to meet the head honcho, whose title translated more or less as “king.”  King Onnutladron was a startlingly young man, with a thin face and a tendency to gnaw his lower lip.

“The old gods warned us to beware of the Sacred Ring, but they were false and we have abandoned them,” he explained earnestly.  “Onnun, He who destroys the darkness of evil, has given me the gift of kingship that I may lead my people into His light.  You who travel through the Ring have been brought to us by Onnun’s mercy on our ignorance.  We hope to learn from you, that we may better serve Him.”

John left that to Teyla to answer as he studied the men seated on either side of Onnutladron’s throne –lords who held land, troops and peasantry in their own names.  Older men, for the most part.  Hard men, with dour expressions.  In theory, they had pledged themselves to follow the young king.  John wondered who led whom in reality.  Afghanistan had taught him that religious fanaticism, armed troops and politics were a messy combination.

“According to the local gossip, O-nut hasn’t been king for long,” explained Rodney at the debriefing back in Atlantis.  He and Ronon had managed to escape the royal audience in favour of “seeing the town.”  In other words, Rodney had been wandering around with a scanner hunting stray energy readings while Ronon watched his back.  This effort had resulted in nothing more interesting than a semi-coherent tirade from an old woman who apparently had issues about foreigners, evil and devils.  A man who looked to be her son had scowled at Rodney and Ronon as he led her carefully away.  In general, the locals had seemed little disposed to approach the Lanteans.

When even Rodney had given up on the energy readings and begun to complain instead, Ronon had led the way to a local tavern.  No one wanted to talk to them there either.  However, after they’d traded pretty bits of broken circuitry for a couple of rounds of ale for everyone in the place, people were at least willing to talk _near_ them.  And Ronon had really good hearing.

“The past several years have been bad for crop failures, plagues, all sorts of wonderful things.  The peasants tried a few times to raise rebellions against the barons, the barons tried to rebel against the king.” 

“Lots of people executed,” put in Ronon.

“When the king’s only son died, the king named a distant cousin as his heir.  Then the king died too – probably not a natural death – and the barons refused to accept the heir and named O-nut king instead.  He’s a cousin too, from another branch of the tree.  Depending on who’s telling the story, he may or may not be a closer cousin than the deposed heir.  He’s certainly younger and more malleable.”

“Yeah, he’s also a religious fanatic,” John pointed out grimly.

“Which means that he may be happy to focus on religious matters and leave all other points of rule to the barons,” said Teyla, looking thoughtful.

“It’s a rebound relationship.”  Everyone looked at Ronon.  “The barons didn’t like the old king, so they broke up with him by killing him and refusing his heir.  Then they hooked up with this guy instead.”

“Doomed,” muttered Rodney. 

***

While John was in university, he learned an important rule about picking up partners on the rebound: make sure their ex _knows_ it’s over.  He learned this because Bethany apparently hadn’t made this point clear to her ex-boyfriend, who was on the wrestling team and outweighed John by a good sixty pounds.

But it wasn’t until he was almost thirty that John learned the most important rebound rule of all.

One of John’s buddies was dating a woman who had a friend who’d just been through a bad break-up and apparently needed cheering up.  John’s buddy’s girlfriend figured John was the right guy for the job, so she arranged a double-date for the four of them.  John’s date, Nancy, turned out to be more than just pretty and smart.  She also had a wickedly edged sense of humour and, John suspected, a bit of a wild streak.

The next time they went out, it was just them.

Being with Nancy was different than being with anyone else John had ever met.  He could let her see beneath his “listening face,” and she was okay with that.  When he couldn’t find words, she was okay with that too.  He took her to meet his father.  Nancy spent the evening charming the socks off Patrick Sheppard.  Afterwards, she replayed the entire evening for John, except this time actually _saying_ what she’d been thinking at various points.  She and John laughed so hard they were crying.  Nancy was still laughing when John kissed her and then kissed her again and kept kissing her, touching her until she was gasping rather than laughing.

He wanted to keep this woman.  He wanted to keep her beside him for the rest of their lives.  He could deal with _anything_ if he had Nancy to laugh about it with him afterwards.  He would _do_ anything to hang on to that.

One evening, John took Nancy out to dinner.  As they were drinking their coffee, he took a deep breath and said, “Look, we’ve only been seeing each other for six months, but.”

Nancy smiled gently and replied, “I know, John.  It’s been great, hasn’t it?”

She knew?  Oh, thank god, she knew.  Maybe he could do this.  So John reached into his jacket pocket and brought out the small box, handed it to Nancy.  She stared at it, her face gone very still.

“Open it,” he said.  She did.

“It was my mother’s,” he said.

“Oh.”

“May I?”

Nancy looked up then, looked into his eyes.  “John...”

“Please?”

And she said yes, and let him slip the engagement ring onto her finger.

The marriage lasted hardly a year.

“It’s not your fault, John.  I shouldn’t have married you in the first place.  You helped me heal, you helped me a _lot_, but after six months...”

“You said yes.”

“You looked so hopeful.  And I _liked_ you, still do.  I thought that maybe with enough hope and affection, it might work.  But it hasn’t.”

John learned then that the most important rebound rule of all is: never get involved in with someone on the rebound if there’s any chance you might fall in love with that person.

***

A few weeks after the Kivnia mission, Rodney finally got up the nerve to propose to Jennifer Keller.  She turned him down.

Back when Rodney had decided not to propose to Katie Brown after all, John had done the good-buddy thing and shared a few beers with him.

This time, John figured they might need even more beer.

“She said she wasn’t ready.  What kind of readiness is she waiting for?”

“Well, buddy, she’s quite a bit younger than you are.”

“Ha, you’re even older.”

“Yeah, by sixteen months.  Want another?”

“How many – oh, never mind.  Sure.”

“Here ya go.”

“It wasn’t _really_ about her not being ready.  That’s an excuse,” Rodney confided slyly.

“So what was it about, buddy?”

“I couldn’t learn fast enough.”

“Rodney, you’re a genius.  You learn faster than anyone else I’ve ever met.”

“Right, but Jennifer wanted me to learn to be thaw, tho, _thoughtful_.  And kinder.  Or at least less rude.”

“I dunno.  I’ve seen you be thoughtful when it really counts.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.  Maybe Keller just couldn’t see it.”

“That’s the problem.”  Now Rodney sounded morose.  “No one can see it.”

“Hey!  I can see it!  What am I, mashed potatoes?”  John felt pleased that he’d caught Rodney out on a point of logic, especially considering the inroads they’d made on his beer stash.  But his pleasure died away when he turned to find Rodney staring at him with those blue, blue eyes.  Same damn eyes he’d been very carefully not looking at for more than five years now.  Just like he hadn’t been looking at Rodney’s mouth or his hands or his shoulders or his ass or...  Actually, after five years, John’s safe zone was just about down to Rodney’s feet, and even then only if Rodney had shoes on.

“No, John,” said Rodney carefully.  “You’re not mashed potatoes.  You’re... _you_.  You’ve always been you and you’ve always been _there_ and you’ve never tried to change me but I think you have anyway.  John.” And Rodney reached out tentatively, might have been about to touch John’s face.

But John ducked away and said, “No.”

Rodney’s expression fell.  “I’m sorry.  I made a mistake.  Oh god, now I’ve completely screwed things up!  Look, can we forget this happened?”

“Nothing happened, okay?  We’ve both been drinking, and you weren’t in the greatest shape when we started.  And it’s late.  We should head back to our quarters, get some sleep.  Everything will be fine, buddy.”

John Sheppard never followed _all_ the rules.  Just the really important ones.

***

News travelled fast in Atlantis.  Hardly two days later, Ronon commented at lunch, “Heard that McKay and Keller broke up.”

John shrugged.  “Yeah.  He’s taking it hard.”

“Wanted to check what I heard before I did anything.”

John stopped eating and considered Ronon.  “Uh, what happened to Dr. Dwyer?”

“Transferred back to Earth on the last _Daedalus_ run.”  Ronon didn’t sound too down about it.

John was about to say he was sorry to hear that when Teyla beat him to it.

“Ronon, while I am sorry to hear that your relationship with Dr. Dwyer did not prosper, I am not sure it is appropriate for you to approach Dr. Keller so soon.”

“How’d you know I meant Keller?  Maybe I’m thinking of making a move on McKay.”

John almost choked.

“Sorry, Sheppard, just joking.”

“Who’s joking about what?” asked Rodney as he set his tray down and inhaled half of his coffee.  “Well?  Don’t all answer at once.”

John looked at Ronon, who looked at Teyla, who glared right back at him.

Finally, the big man gave Rodney a sheepish look and explained.  “Tracy went back to Earth, and I heard you and Keller broke up, so I was joking about making a move on you.”

Rodney stared, then snapped, “Bad idea.  First, one of the reasons Jennifer and I didn’t work out was that she was too young for me, which means you are too.  Second, while you’re inarguably hot, you’re – look, no offense, but you’re not my type.  Third, rebound relationships never last – haven’t we already discussed this? – and our inevitable break-up would affect the team’s dynamics for the worse.  I’m sure that Colonel Sheppard will agree with me on this point.”

John hastily took a large bite of sandwich.  Once he had a mouthful of food as a safe excuse to avoid speaking, he nodded.

“Rodney, I agree with you overall, but I find your choice of reasons interesting.”

“What, Teyla, three’s not enough for you?”

“Even one would be sufficient.  It is only that I am... interested by which ones you chose to state.”

Whatever Teyla was implying, it was obviously going right over Rodney’s head.  And, John had to admit, his too.  He tried shutting the conversation out and focusing on his sandwich instead, which worked until:

“Sheppard, are you just not listening or did your hair finally eat your brain?”

John tuned in to Rodney’s voice and answered with a raised eyebrow.

“As I _said_, the botanists are really excited over those grain and vegetable samples we brought back from Kivnia.  They want to send a team back.  How much tolerance does Lorne have for religious bullshit?”

Rodney had lost interest in Kivnia after failing to find anything technologically noteworthy on his initial visit.  John was just as happy to avoid paying courtesy calls to Onnutladron himself.  He’d make damn sure, though, that any other team that went there included at least one military member with field experience in politically unstable regions.

***

Nine months and as many trading missions later, Cpl. Harrity reported getting a “funny, twinge-y buzz” in the rear of what amounted to an over-sized root cellar.

“We’d been directed to set the jumper down in front of – they were basically really large caves, sir.  The locals had widened the entrances, hung some doors.  They were using ‘em to store vegetables, I guess because it was cooler in there.  Most of the squad was outside loading the jumper, but Sgt. LeBlanc told Morris and me to go in and help the locals carry stuff out.”

“So you were inside the cave when you felt the ‘buzz’?”

“Yes, sir.  Inside and towards the back, although once I’d noticed it there, I could feel it nearer the door, only weaker.”

No one else on the squad had noticed anything, but Harrity was the only one who had the ATA gene, albeit not strongly.

Rodney, of course, wanted to go check it out _right now_.  Which meant John was going with him, and only partly because if there was anything Ancient to be found, John had the best chance of finding it.  The other part was that the political situation on Kivnia had been showing signs of deteriorating.  “It’s nothing I can put my finger on, sir,” one Afghanistan vet had told John, “It’s... the way the locals act, not just towards us, but also towards each other.  Everyone’s on edge and getting edgier, and not everyone’s got the same idea what to do about it.”

Yeah, if Rodney was visiting those caves, John was definitely going with him.

***

Cpl. Harrity’s “buzz” proved to be for real – and also extremely grating as far as John’s nerves were concerned.  It took Rodney almost ten minutes (“You’re slowing down, McKay”) to find the controls that opened the hidden door in the rear of the cave and get them into the rooms beyond.

“So what was all this?” John asked, leaning in to study a random console.

“Don’t touch that!  My best guess?  Some kind of research outpost.  It’s been pretty well cleaned out.  There’s a not lot left here to go on.”

“Thanks for getting the low-battery alarm turned off, anyway.”

“If you really wanted to thank me, you’d find me something more exciting than an almost-depleted ZPM,” snipped Rodney.

“Well, there’s all those root vegetables in the cave out there...  Sheppard here.”  John’s attention shifted focus abruptly as his radio activated.

_“Colonel, this is Teyla.  We have a situation.”_

Yeah, a situation that involved lots of yelling in the background – and was that the sound of Ronon’s blaster?  Damn, John had sent Teyla to do the diplomatic thing with Onnutladron and Ronon as back-up for her.  They were supposed to be drinking tea and listening to the king talk religion.  

“What’s happening, Teyla?”

_“A revolt, I think. Several armed men broke into Onnutladron’s chambers.  Some of his own guards joined them, while the others refrained from action.  Ronon and I were able to fight our way out, bringing the king with us, but when we reached the main hall, Onnutladron insisted on stepping forward and trying to speak to the men there, reminding them that he was the Chosen of Onnun.”_

“I take it that didn’t go well.”

_“No.  He received a cross-bow bolt in the chest and is now dead.”_

“Your current position?”

_“Outside the palace but still within the town walls.  Both Ronon and I are unwounded, and we have plenty of ammunition.”_

More blaster fire in the background.

“Okay, Teyla?  If you and Ronon can get to the Gate, go through and have Lorne send a jumper with a squad of marines.  If you can’t, find somewhere to hole up and wait.  Lorne will know what to do when we miss our check-in.  McKay and I have a defensible position.  We’re okay here until our ride shows up.”

_“I understand, Colonel.  Good luck.  Teyla out.”_

Rodney had caught enough of the conversation to tell him what was up.  “I’ve got the door to the outer cave closed and locked, Colonel.”

“Life signs?”

“None inside the cave.  Quite a cluster just outside the entrance.”

“Waiting to jump us as we come out.  Or... not.  Open the door, but get ready to close it again fast.”

“What are you planning?  Sheppard, if this is one of your stunts...”

John ignored Rodney as he moved into the doorway and called out, “Hello?  Anyone out there?”

There was the sound of shuffling bodies outside the cave’s entrance.  Then an armed man stepped inside.  “Colonel Sheppard?  We have been sent to see to your safety and Dr. McKay’s.”

“That’s great, we appreciate it.  Look, we need to get a message to our team-mates, they’re at the palace.  Have you got someone you can send?”

The soldier frowned.  “It would be better if you accompanied us.  We can bring you to your friends.”

“Sorry, McKay’s not ready to leave yet.  Can you send a messenger?”

The guy looked outside, nodded in response to something said or signaled and turned back to John.  “_I_ am sorry, I must insist that you and Dr. McKay...”

John jumped back inside the doorway, yelling, “Close it!”  Rodney hit the controls, and the door pivoted shut on its central hinge even as various projectiles hit the outside. 

“Sheppard, what the hell did you think you were doing?”

“Testing our hypothesis.  I think we can now safely conclude that they were waiting to jump us.  How’s our air supply?”

“Apparently indefinite, at least until the ZPM dies and the ventilation system shuts down.  At which point it will also get very dark in here.”

“Time estimate?”

“Nineteen hours.”

“We should be out of here before then.  How about the door, any chance they can break in?”

“Medieval technology, Colonel.  They haven’t invented explosives yet, so unless your grunts have been using C4 and detonators as trade items...”

“My grunts know better than that.  Medieval technology – battering rams?”

“Uh, yes.  Possibly.  Why do people think _I’m_ the pessimist?”   

John grinned.

“No, seriously, do you really think they’re going to batter their way in here?  Ohmigod, you do.  And we don’t even have anything heavy to pile in front of the door.”

“We could use your pack, McKay, you’re always complaining about how heavy _that_ is.  Calm down.  It’ll take them a while to get a battering ram on site and into position.  With any luck, we’ll be rescued before that happens.” 

“’With any luck’?  Did the alarm fry your brains?  This is the Pegasus galaxy, Colonel, and I don’t know if you’re noticed, but luck here usually means _bad_ luck.”

“Okay then.  Maybe we’ll be rescued _without_ any luck.”

***

The main problem with waiting to be rescued was that waiting was boring.  After several rounds of prime/not-prime and a couple of powerbars, Rodney started on a rant about various people he considered to be to blame for their current situation.  John was bored enough to disagree with Rodney just for the entertainment value.  The more he wound Rodney up, the wider and wilder the circle of blame spun.

“C’mon, McKay, you can’t blame Onnutladron.  The guy’s _dead_.”

“His death is irrelevant, Sheppard.  What matters is that _we’re _in danger due to _his_ stupidity.  He had no business welcoming us here and making us think we were safe when he had to have known that he didn’t have enough control over the situation to guarantee that.”

“Okay, first?  I never thought we were all that safe here and neither did you.  Second, I think Onnutladron may really have been naïve enough not to know how shaky his position was.”     

“You’ve got to be kidding me.  Look, O-nut knew what the barons had done to the last king.  He knew he couldn’t trust them.  But he decided to go ahead and let them make him king anyway.  Why would he do that?  If he thought they’d let him have any real power, he was an idiot.”

Privately, John agreed, but that was no reason to wrap up the conversation just yet.  Rodney’s hand swoops were just getting really good.  “Maybe he saw the throne as a chance to promote his religion thing?”

“And you think that was a _good_ reason?”

“No, I’m just saying that Onnutladron seemed pretty sincere about the religious stuff.  Crazy, but sincere.”  John topped that statement off with an oh-so -sincere smile of his own.

“That’s not an excuse!  Listen to yourself, Sheppard – sincerity does not excuse insanity and naïveté does not excuse idiocy, not when _other_ people’s insanity and idiocy get _us_ killed!  O-nut should have known better than to promise us safety he couldn’t guarantee.  Hell, he should have known better than to say ‘yes’ to the barons in the first place!”

“Right, McKay, like you’ve never taken a chance and been wrong,” John heard himself snap.  He was surprised to hear the real anger in his voice.

Rodney stared.  John shook his head, trying to clear it.  Where the hell had that come from?  And when had the air in here gotten so hazy?

“Uh, McKay?  Do you smell something burning?”

“What?  Oh, shit!”  Rodney was on his feet and over at the Ancient consoles in a flash.  The guy sure could move when he wanted to.  “_Shit!_  Sheppard, the ventilation system?  It’s drawing in air from the cave right outside the door.”

“Yeah, and the door is feeling hot to touch.  The Kivnians decided to smoke us out.  Have we got a rear exit?”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, I think I saw a schematic somewhere... Okay, follow me.”

John grabbed both their packs and handed Rodney his, then followed.  A door at the rear of the room led to another room, like the first empty except for a few consoles.  A second door led to...

“Whoa.  Is this a natural cavern, McKay, or a mine?”

“Do I look like a geologist, Colonel?  If it’s natural, it’s been modified for use.  You notice the relatively flat floor and the light fixtures in the walls?  According to the local database, there’s an entire system of underground chambers and passages.  _If_ nothing’s changed in the last 10,000 years, we ought to be able to follow it and come back to the surface a dozen or so kilometres from here.”

“Big if.  And Lorne will be looking for us here.”

“Assuming we haven’t been asphyxiated, Colonel.”

“Yeah, there is that.  Have we got radio contact this far in?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Damn.  Okay, let’s go on a bit.”

***

The echoes their voices created suggested that the chamber they’d stepped out into was large and high-ceilinged.  The platform of rock they stood on extended about 30 metres forward from the lab door before falling away into unlit depths.  From one end, a broad ledge led John and Rodney forward along the side of the chamber.  A series of odd bluish lights winked on as they approached, turned themselves off again after the two men had passed.  Reflected light glittered from crystalline veins in the rock walls.  The air had an edged scent to it, powerfully natural and completely inorganic.

“There aren’t any stalactites,” noted John.

“They’re typical of limestone caves which, presumably, this isn’t.  Uh-oh, what’s this?”

“This” was a rib of rock that extended out from the wall, narrowing the ledge so that only one person could edge around the rib at a time.

John motioned Rodney to wait and went first.  If there was a light immediately on the other side of the ridge, it had burnt out at some point over the millennia.  Another shone further on, not close enough to dispel all the shadows.  John moved forward carefully, at each step trying to get a sense of the stability of the next bit of ground before putting his full weight on it.

“All right, McKay, I think you can start coming forward, but be slow and... shit!”  He felt the ground give beneath his foremost foot before he heard the rattle of pebbles falling into the depths.  He tried to step back, wavered, then felt Rodney grab his arm and yank him backwards, twisting.

It took John a moment to realize they’d been lucky enough to land on solid ground instead of air.  It took a moment longer for him to tune into Rodney’s rant.

“...not fair that I’m going to have bruises on my ass from the rock _and_ on my ribs from your bony elbows, plus it’s_ also_ not fair that you can be bony and heavy at the same time, and do you plan on getting _off_ me anytime soon?”

John started to comply, realized he couldn’t and grinned.  “Uh, McKay?  I _can’t_ get off you with you hanging on to me that tightly.  But move _carefully_ – our ledge is still pretty narrow here.”

Rodney released his grip on John with glacial slowness.

“We should rig some safety ropes before we try again,” John commented when they were both relatively stable.

“Before or if?  Here, try thinking ‘on’ at the lights further up ahead, see if you can get them to light up even though we’re not there yet...  Oh, hell, that’s what I was afraid of.”

The ledge widened out again and continued for another twenty metres or so, but was then blocked by a rock fall.

“C4?” suggested John.

“Right, let’s just bring the entire mess down on top of our heads.  I think we’re back to Plan A – Sit and Wait.  The air’s clearer in here, and as you yourself said earlier, Lorne with be along eventually.”

“Sounds good to me, buddy.”   

***

They edged back around the rib, returned to the broad platform just outside the labs and settled down to wait.  Rodney dug out a couple of MREs, although John wasn’t particularly hungry and declined the offer.  He tried to think of something to talk about, figuring that if he didn’t Rodney would go right back to...

“What got you so angry so fast?”

“When was this?”

“Oh, no, no you don’t.  You know when, Colonel.  Before the Kivnians decided to have a barbecue.  You got angry and demanded to know if I’d never taken a chance and been wrong.  Which is a stupid question because you were there when...  Are you still angry about Doranda?  Because that was a few years back and I thought we were over it.”

“Ye-es, McKay, we’re over Doranda.”  John had to grit his teeth against the urge to yell.  He and Rodney were stuck here until their rescuers showed up.  There was nowhere to run.

“Oh.”  Silence.  Then: “Is this about that thing a few weeks ago?  Because I already apologized and you agreed we could forget it.”

“Forgetting it is a good idea, McKay, as in forget _this_, _now_.”

“I _was_ forgetting it until you brought it up again – you know what?  Never mind.”  With which Rodney became ostentatiously focused on doing something with his scanner, every solid inch of him screaming that he was ignoring John.

The silence lasted for almost three minutes.

“For what it’s worth, I apologize _again_ if I made you feel insecure about your masculinity or heterosexuality or whatever you’re feeling insecure about.”

“I’m not feeling insecure about anything, McKay.”  Especially not his heterosexuality.  “What I am, is angry.  And what’s making me angry is that you’re pretty damn free about mocking people who take stupid chances for a guy who invited –”

Fuck, what was he saying?  John clamped his mouth shut and waited for Rodney’s scathing retort.

But there was only silence.  When he made himself look at Rodney again, Rodney was staring back, blue eyes wide.

“Okay, you’re right.  I did that.  But I don’t understand why you’re angry.”  Rodney’s tone was almost humble, amazingly so for him.  “All you had to say was ‘no’.  You _did_ say no.  And I respected your ‘no’.  Hell, you were right.  When our... whatever we started failed to work out, as it inevitably would have, it would have destroyed the team.”

It would have destroyed _me_, thought John.

“But you’re acting as if saying no was hard for you, as if it cost you something.”

“Did you think it was easy, McKay?”

“For a straight guy to say no to another guy hitting on him?  Or... for anyone really to say no to, well.  Jeannie said it.  I’m no...”

“McKay, if I ever have – _the next time _I have a chance to go back in time, I’m gonna find a way to stop your sister from saying that.  Because it didn’t make sense when she said it and it makes even less sense every time you repeat it.”

“Oh.  Thank you?”  Rodney frowned.  “Anyway, there’s, uh, quite a number of people who’ve said no to me.  Jennifer, for example.”

“Right, McKay, but if you completely bought what the doc said, why’d you decide to run out and get a second opinion?”  John heard the snarl in his own voice and winced.

“See, now you sound angry again!  And what do you mean, ‘second opinion’?  You’re not implying that...  Oh.  You are.  You thought.”

_Boom._

John was on his feet in an instant, Rodney following more slowly.

_Boom._

The noise was coming from the front of the labs.

“Medieval technology,” said Rodney.

_Boom._

“Battering ram,” gritted John. 

They moved forward through the labs.  The air still smelled smoky, but it was breathable.  The outer door, however, was beginning to show signs of strain.

_Boom._

“Think they’ve got a Balrog?”

John stared.  Rodney looked genuinely worried.  And yeah, this was Pegasus and it wasn’t _impossible_ that Rodney had found something in the database that sounded pretty much exactly like...  But then, because Rodney could never play poker for shit, John caught the guilty flex of the other man’s lips.  Somewhat to his own surprise, he burst out laughing.  Rodney grinned triumphantly.

“Let’s move back, buddy.  We can at least give them a couple more layers of doors to break through.”

_Boom._

“And maybe set a few booby traps while we’re at it?”

John nodded, still smiling.  “I like the way you think, McKay.”

***

As defensive positions went, theirs wasn’t bad, thought John as he watched Rodney fiddling with wires, electrical tape and C4. 

_Boom._

“Rodney, what are the chances of the battering ram, your booby traps or both causing the whole place to cave in?”

“I’m hoping that the walls around the lab itself are reinforced.  It would make sense if you were building for the _really_ long-term, which is what the Ancients usually did.”

_Boom._

“There, I’m done.  Both the door between the two lab rooms and this one here are set.  What now?”

“Okay, the doorway’s not too wide.  That’ll limit the rate at which the Kivnians can come through.  And I think...”

“Sheppard!”

_Boom._

“Whoa, calm down, buddy.  I was just testing.”

“Yes, and thank you so much for warning me that you were about to turn all the lights off with your mind!”

“They’re back on now.  Study the layout of this place, because the Kivnians won’t have a chance to.  By the time they break through, those lights are gonna be off again.”

_Boom._

“So that one of us can accidentally shoot the other?”

“Not happening, McKay.  We’re gonna be over on the side with the ledge, firing at them as they come through the door.  Keep some part of your body in contact with the wall at _all_ times.  Get disoriented in the dark and it’s a good chance you’ll go over the edge of the platform.”

“I’ll remind you, Colonel, that between the two of us, _I’m_ not the one completely lacking in any sense of direction!”

_Boom._

“Yeah, stay by the wall anyway.  If you do lose touch with it, yell and I’ll put the lights back on.  I’d rather risk that than losing you.”  John tried to keep his voice as close to matter-of-fact as he could get it, trusting to Rodney’s obliviousness to make up the difference.  “We don’t have to hold off the Kivnians forever, just until Lorne gets his ass here with a rescue team.  How much longer do we have on that ZPM?”   

“A bit less than six and a half hours, Colonel.”

_Boom._

***

They heard the outer door go with a final smash, followed a moment later by a thump as the inertia of the ram carried it across the first lab room into the wall.  Muffled shouts told them that the Kivnians had swarmed over and around the ram to get into the room.  Presumably they weren’t too happy about finding it empty.

“The second door’s not right across from the first one,” Rodney pointed out.

“Yeah, it’ll take them some time to reposition the ram...  Hello?  Sheppard here, do you read me?”

His radio crackled again, but the noise was still unintelligible.

“Damn.  If that’s Lorne, I hope we manage to make radio contact before our guys try to open those doors.”

“_I’m_ on one side of the doors and there’s a bunch of people with swords, crossbows and a battering ram on the other.  Only an idiot would fail to realize that _of course_ the doors are booby-trapped,” sniffed Rodney.

“You’re all heart, McKay.  Uh, you _can_ defuse them from this side, right?”

“Please.”

Outside the shouts got louder, more urgent.  And there was a new noise...  “Sheppard, is that P-90 fire?”

“Sounds like it... Sheppard here.”

_“It’s Ronon.  Did McKay do anything to the doors?”_

“Yeah, they’re booby-trapped.”

_“Good.  That’s what I told Lorne.”_

“Can you clear the Kivnians out of the way?”

_“Working on it.  We’ve got some Marines helping.”   _

“Letting them off hand-to-hand practice today?”

_“Nah, doing that when we get back.”_

“Fun.  Let us know when it’s clear.”

_“Yeah.  Ronon out.”_

***

After their triumphant return to Atlantis – in the company of Teyla, Ronon, Lorne, two squads of Marines, three jumpers and a couple dozen “liberated” swords and crossbows – John had debriefed to Woolsey (“I don’t recommend reopening trade relations, sir”), paid the obligatory visit to the infirmary, showered and grabbed a sandwich.  He was now stretched out on his bed, catching up with the Rostovs while he awaited the inevitable.

Four hours later, he was still waiting.  He contemplated turning in for the night, then toed on his trainers and headed out the door.

***

“I checked your lab first,” John told Rodney as he made himself comfortable against the wall of Rodney’s quarters.

“I had to, uh, take care of something.”  Rodney waved vaguely in the direction of the two laptops open on his desk.

John gave that excuse all the response it deserved: he raised an eyebrow.  The silence that followed stretched out uncomfortably.  John knew he should tell Rodney why he was there.  He _wanted_ to tell Rodney, _tried_ to find the words, opened his mouth and: “You did good today, buddy.”  Crap.  Wrong words.

But Rodney looked back at him and replied, “Okay, here’s the thing.  As long as we put off having this discussion, I can still pretend it won’t end badly.  Once we actually have it...”

Desperately grateful that Rodney had taken the initiative, John drawled, “Kind of like Schrödinger’s chat.”

He couldn’t help snickering at Rodney’s stunned expression.  Predictably, the snicker set Rodney off: “No, you do _not_ get to make physics puns, Colonel, especially not _horrible_ physics puns!”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take humour criticism from a guy who makes Balrog jokes.”

“I was trying to keep your spirits up,” said Rodney primly.  Then he cracked up, and John lost it.  He was laughing so hard he had to slide down the wall to the floor before he fell down.  That made Rodney laugh even harder, practically doubled over in his desk chair.

By the time they finally caught their breaths, Rodney was flushed, his eyes shining with tears of merriment.  Rodney should always look like this, thought John.  He should never have to look scared or angry or exhausted.  If John could reorder the universe so that Rodney could always look like this...  And oh hell, how long had he and Rodney been sitting here staring at each other’s faces?

Rodney took a deep breath.  “What I said that evening, I’d wanted to say for... well, before Jennifer.”

“Before you and Jennifer broke up.”

“Before we ever got started.”

John’s heart did something painful.  “Katie.”

“Before Katie.”

“Damnit, McKay...”

“Damnit yourself, Sheppard.  Chaya?  Teer?  Mara?  Larrin?  All the observational evidence suggested that your heterosexuality was... unassailable.”

“Rodney, you’re the only person in this room who believes that my heterosexuality even exists.”

“Oh.  But even if.  You’re, well, _you_.  And...”

“Rodney,” John growled as he rolled up to his feet, “If you’re about to quote your sister again, don’t bother.”

Rodney went very still, the pink tip of his tongue darting out to touch his lips as he looked up at John.

John reached out to grasp Rodney’s shoulders and tug gently upwards.  The solid muscle beneath his hands brought back the moment in the cavern when the ground had fallen out from under his feet.  Rodney had grabbed him, pulled him to safety, held him tight.  Rodney... was standing in front of him, so close, his chin tilted up slightly.  To kiss him, John had to lean forward only the barest degree.

The first kiss was light, gentle; the second, longer and more determined.  After the third, John lost count, lost track of everything except the dance of their tongues and lips, the random nip of teeth.  When they finally broke for air, John realized that he had one hand wrapped around the back of Rodney’s neck and the other fisted in Rodney’s shirt.  If the latter was meant to keep Rodney from running away, the precaution was apparently unnecessary.  Rodney’s hands were broad and warm on John’s hips, his thumbs stroking John’s hipbones down, up... down, up.  Their bodies were rocking against each other to that same rhythm.  When John tried to hold himself still a moment, just to see what would happen, Rodney vented a frustrated whine and _thrust_ his hips against John’s.  John shivered, pulled Rodney in as close as he could get him, wanted to pull Rodney in through his _skin_, he was so hungry to be touched...

But Rodney pulled away.  His eyes were dark, his lips were swollen and his hair was standing up in tufts.  He looked like everything John had wanted for the past five years.  And no, John had no guarantee that he was never going to regret this, but he couldn’t come this close and not take the chance.  Not when it was _Rodney_.  Who demanded:

“Why are we still _dressed_ and _standing_ here?”

John wrapped one arm around all that warm, solid strength and tugged Rodney bedwards, dimming the lights with a thought.

And everything was finally right.


End file.
